


Stay

by aurelie_saintjuste



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: (Spoiler Alert: It Gets Solved), F/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Post-Star Wars: A New Dawn, Pre-Star Wars: Rebels, Sexual Intercourse, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, post-Gorse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24314794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurelie_saintjuste/pseuds/aurelie_saintjuste
Summary: Or, "Five Times Hera Syndulla Did Not Sleep In Kanan Jarrus’ Bunk, And One Time She Did."Hera is tired of dancing around this thing with Kanan, but her commitment to the rebellion makes it difficult to prioritize.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 38
Kudos: 122





	1. One

Hera knows a thing or two about bad dreams.

She knows what it was like to be slammed into wakefulness completely disoriented, drenched in sweat, desperately trying to push the vivid images away while trying to ground yourself in reality, to take stock of real versus imagined. She’s felt betrayed by her mind and her memories before, and when she hears shouts calling for a Master from the corridor that houses the crew bunks during a particularly slow graveyard shift behind the yoke of the Ghost, she has a feeling Kanan Jarrus is no stranger to bad dreams, either.

“Chop, keep an eye on things,” she tells her astromech softly, knowing full well he would have little to do in the swirling blue lights of hyperspace.

Chopper chirps his assent, and Hera pushes herself up, thanking him wordlessly with a fond pat on his scuffed dome. She pads quietly past the cabins towards the galley. She draws a glass of water, and keeps an earcone trained towards the cabins. It’s quiet, but Hera can see a small pool of light flooding from under Kanan’s cabin hatch down the otherwise dark corridor.

“Kanan?” she asks softly, knocking gently at the durasteel. “Kanan, are you awake?” 

There is a pause and some shuffling on the other side of the sealed hatch. In that pause, Hera considers resuming her place in the pilot seat, letting her new crewmate take on his demons on his own. Gorse was only behind them by a few weeks, and Hera feels the momentary flush of uncertainty, wondering if she was overstepping the carefully drawn up agreement of employment she and Kanan had only just agreed to.

The hatch slides open, and behind it stands her sleep-roughened first mate. Hera has never seen him quite so disheveled before - his long hair hung at his shoulders, sleep pants slung loosely around his hips.

She has _definitely_ overstepped a boundary, and for the first time on her own ship, feels a hot flush warming her cheeks.

“Everything alright, captain?” Kanan asks, his voice not quite awake. 

“I…” Hera starts lamely. She swallows hard trying to keep the awkwardness she feels out of her voice, “I heard shouting. I wanted to be sure you were alright.” 

Kanan eyes her carefully, a gesture Hera feels in her very bones. “I brought you some water,” She offers, holding out the glass. 

“Just a bad dream,” he confesses, taking the glass from her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“No! No… not a problem. I just,” _How is it easier to lie to the Empire than it was to face Kanan Jarrus?_ “Wanted to be sure you didn’t need anything.” 

There’s a pause where Hera feels like she should turn on her booted heel and head back to the cockpit. But Kanan surprises her when he raises an eyebrow, his bravado melts quickly as he steps aside and lets her in. Hera feels deeply as though she is intruding, and even though she is intimately familiar with the layout of the bunks on _her_ ship, being in his cabin felt foreign and… exciting. His possessions are few, and short of some personal decorations, her subtle reminders from home, it hardly looks any different than her own quarters. Sharing his space makes it feel unknown.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offers softly. She doesn’t know where to sit, and doesn’t want to presume she will be in the room for long, so she stands in the center of the small cabin. “When I was young, sometimes it helped if I --” 

“No.” he interrupts quietly, sinking to sit on the edge of his bed. “Not yet.” 

_Not yet._ There is a chance she would learn more about the puzzle that was Kanan Jarrus, but she can’t imagine pushing him into it. If he really is - or had been - a Jedi, and he is still alive… well… 

“Can I do anything for you? Check for rancors under the bunk?” Hera says lightly and with a playful smile. She’s rewarded with his handsome one in return.

“No Captain Syndulla, I’m sure I can manage,” he laughs softly, and runs a hand through his loose hair. Hera was struck by his appearance on Gorse, but she thinks him to be the most handsome creature in the galaxy at that moment and vows to make him laugh like that again. Kanan’s vulnerability in this moment makes him more human, less playboy-ruffian-turned-reluctant-revolutionary. She feels her stomach tighten as she realizes how deeply she wants to help him. 

… Instead, she says, “I won’t stay and keep you up, then,” 

Hera extends a hand to take the empty glass back. His fingers are warm when they brush against hers. “I’ll be in the cockpit if you need anything.” 

Kanan watches her carefully as she moves to exit, and she can feel the weight of his eyes on her.

“Thank you, Hera.” 


	2. Two

“Truth or dare, Hera,” Kanan challenges her and his tone is too easy. 

Hera is immediately suspicious.

“Absolutely not.”  
  
“Dare then,” and the grin that carried into his seaglass eyes suddenly makes her feel a little lightheaded, suspicions be damned. Weeks of tiptoeing around this unnamed _thing_ between them is starting to take its toll on Hera’s fraying nerves.

“Kanan, this is ridiculous.” Her fingers reach for the dial to reset the dejarik board, hoping to distract him with another game instead of _this_ potential minefield.

“It’s just a game. The great Captain Syndulla is the last person I’d expect to back down from a dare.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Fine. Dare.” 

He slides closer to her in the booth, and leans across the dejarik table and bodily enters her space. Hera could curse their efficiency in keeping the _Ghost_ up and running between jobs, and she could double curse the hours that stretch in front of them as they travel from one system to the next. Somehow, a few innocent games of dejarik to pass the time has evolved into this precarious situation, and practical Hera is none too pleased with it. 

Hera suspects this is his way of paying her back for completely destroying him in every round they’ve played so far. 

But knowing Kanan, it could be worse. Knowing Kanan, she could have been challenged to a game of strip sabacc, and Hera feels a small pang of… _something_ coil tightly in her stomach as she recalls the night just a few standard weeks ago when she had offered to check under his bunk for rancors. Had _that_ been strip sabacc, she would have been the clear victor, he was down just to those blasted sleep pants and…

_Focus, Hera._

She shakes the memory of her sleep-disheveled first mate, but suddenly Kanan’s mouth is close to her earcone and his breath tickles her lek. It takes a galaxy’s worth of focus to keep her cool and she can feel her gloved fingers curling into tense fists in her lap.

Is this a _Jedi thing_? Does he know what she’s thinking? Hera suddenly feels very vulnerable, too vulnerable. Her tactical mind hates every part of this, she’s never felt so lost.

“I dare you to stay the night - tonight - with me in my cabin.” 

Right. _This_ game. Has every interaction with him turned into a game? A game she is quietly furious to be losing?

It seems as though Kanan will never run out of seedy cantina pickup lines. For a moment, she’s disappointed in the wall he’s chosen to build back up. Hera diplomatically has not brought up the night she checked on him, but she’s also acutely aware that more cycles of panicked shouts have followed in its wake. She knows this playboy act, this over-the-top confidence and bravado is Kanan’s way of coping with whatever keeps tormenting his dreams, but in this moment, she chooses to shake her head, her lekku swaying softly behind her. There is still too much she doesn’t know about Kanan Jarrus, and Hera won’t give in to such a lousy one-liner. Force knows that as a young Twi’lek woman traversing the galaxy alone, she’s heard them all before, at every dimly lit, sticky cantina in every system. 

“No,” she swallows thickly, “Truth then.”

He smiles, his eyes bright as he slides away from her slightly in the booth. She can feel his eyes sweep across her, studying her momentarily. Hera silently prays that he’s not _actually_ reading her mind, she’s not sure how she would dig herself out of the hole of explaining how much he has occupied her thoughts since the night she had gone to him.

“Tell the truth Captain Hera - you wanted to say yes.”

Oh, _kriff_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so grateful to "the-arctic-violet" on tumblr for her keen beta-ing skills and her late night meta chats. Thank you for helping this story grow, friend!


	3. Three

Hera is annoyed when the next day, all she can think about is Kanan’s face, alight with mischief, as he dared her to spend an evening with him.

What was the point? They’d spent plenty of evenings together. How many missions had they planned at that same dejarik table in the last few months? How many meals - a generous term for ration bars and freeze-dried something-or-other - had they consumed in one another’s company? How much time had they spent in the cargo hold, stacking crates and taking inventory in close proximity before a delivery? How often had their fingers brushed, when Hera offered him his cut of a job, slipping the credits into his palm? Yes, the two of them have managed just fine in close proximity since Gorse, and she was not about to allow her focus on her goals for the galaxy - or the harmony on her ship - to be compromised by a pair of blue-green eyes. 

But if there is one thing she inherited from Cham Syndulla, it is his legendary stubbornness, and, stupid game or not, she hadn’t delivered on a dare, and she couldn’t deliver on the truth. 

The truth was that he was right. She _had_ wanted it.

And if last night - and possibly every night since they left Gorse - was any indication, he had wanted it, too.

Kanan is a renowned flirt. Hera has deflected, and sometimes flat out ignored, every one of his blatant one liners from the moment they crossed paths and started working together. In Kanan’s defense, he has always been fairly forthcoming with that part of his past, and what he doesn’t provide, Hera can wager a solid guess. Hera knows all about his favorite drinks at each cantina from world to world, and his favorite partners to share them with. There was a reason she put her booted foot down on libations aboard the _Ghost_ , and she surely would not be another name on his list. She has work to do, with or without him.

The fact remains that Hera can feel herself becoming more entangled in this web of Kanan Jarrus. Handsome face and strong arms aside, Kanan is reliable and helpful. He’s knowledgeable and quick to jump into any necessary repairs. He’s quick on his feet and quick with his mouth, both helpful assets when it comes to getting out of tight situations on missions. 

But there’s more. There’s a sadness in him that Hera can’t help but pick up on in quiet moments where he’s brooding alone in the common area or retreats early to his bunk. She knows he doesn’t sleep well, and the pilot has spent several nights since he’s come aboard wondering what she can do to calm him. Hera knows he’s spent too much time across the galaxy alone, whether by his own design or not, and she finds herself wondering what she can do to get him to call the _Ghost_ home long term. 

She wants to help him. To know him. 

Hera decidedly did _not_ expect to be falling for him.

Best intentions and conflicting emotions aside, an annoying back-and-forth volleys between her heart and brain throughout the day. Heart: _Go to him. You both want this. Maybe you both_ need _this._ Brain: _Don’t you dare. You’re a pilot and a rebel. Too much at stake._

She’s sunk into her seat, the frustration melting into exhaustion with her current thought process. Even her best grounding techniques have proven useless in trying to quiet her internal feuding. Hera’s teeth are on edge as she glares into the black velvet nothingness of space outside the viewport as if the stars themselves have personally wronged her. 

“I’m going to go check on the hissing noise in the airlock you mentioned the other day,” Kanan says, sticking his head into the cockpit and interrupting her thoughts.

“Fine,” she doesn’t turn to meet his eye, hating herself for thinking that if he fell out of said airlock, she might finally get some peace. 

That _wasn’t_ fair. That _wasn’t_ who she was.

 _Besides_ , she angrily muses, _she’d miss him_.

 _Karabast_.

“Hey… are you,” he stops, pauses for a moment and amends, “are _we_ okay?” 

_We?_ Yes. Captain Hera Syndulla is just fine managing her crew mate, Kanan Jarrus, aboard the _Ghost_. She is a professional and there is absolutely nothing amiss, but thank-you-very-much for your concern, Jedi.

She bites back a frustrated laugh, her lekku tight behind her head and contributing mightily to the headache throbbing at her temples. “Just fine, go on.” 

Chopper, tucked behind the pilot’s seat, whirs something treasonous sounding that indicates that things were not, in fact, just fine.

Kanan ventures a few steps into the cockpit, “Look, if this is about last night, I’m sorry, Hera. It was a stupid game. I didn’t mean to push you. I just,” for once he seems to be at a loss for words, he runs a gloved palm over his pulled back hair, “I just felt like maybe there was something… happening.” 

Hera pushes herself away from the control yoke, spinning the pilot chair as she heaves herself up from it and crosses the small distance to close the gap between them. She grabs a fistful of his tunic, pulling him close to her as her lips crash into his.

_Sorry, brain._

She feels his body stiffen in surprise, and then slowly he starts to relax as his hands settle tentatively at her waist. Hera’s mouth is hard against his, as if she is trying to prove something, as if there was some conflict she was trying to work out with her lips pressed against his. But there is hesitation, almost as if he doesn’t know how to respond.

“Hera, hey, hey,” He stops her, pulling back from her assault enough to meet her eyes, “We don’t have to do this.” 

“Something _is_ happening. But… you… you don’t want to?” She breathes, feeling momentarily as if all the air had been knocked out of her lungs. The mental anguish she’s endured the last day seems to have been no more than wasted energy.

He laughs.

He has the audacity to _laugh at her_.

“Hera, I want this more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. Maybe ever,” he smiles - that cursed smile that makes Hera feel dangerously disoriented, “But never at the expense of making you do something you don’t want. Stupid game or otherwise.” 

Her deep green eyes lock on his, and she loosens her grip on his shirt, sliding her hand down until her fingers tentatively twine in his. _He wants this._ Her brain screamed at her to stay focused! There is too much at stake - too much work to be done, risks to be taken and so many relying on her - to get lost in a pair of strong arms.

Hera feels her feet start to carry her towards the cabins, her entwined fingers dragging a willing Kanan behind her. She stops outside of his bunk and turns her gaze on him again, giving him a meaningful look.

Kanan hesitates, but after a beat and without another word, his fingers tap across the keypad and the hatch slides open. They slip inside, and Hera feels her heart thunder in her chest as he crowds her against the closed door. This time, his mouth descends on hers before she has an opportunity to make another strike, one large hand at the small of her back pulls her towards him, the other braces against the cool durasteel. 

Her brain is screaming at her to stop, slow down, think it through, but her heart is so full pressed against his warm form. She wants so badly to know him, to learn from him, to call him a partner, not just from a tactical or business standpoint, but in _more_. 

Hera, the perfectionist, does not want to mess this up.

But here he is, mouth soft against hers, arms holding her close. Hera wants to believe he’s opening up to her, and not just with his body, because that’s easy for Kanan Jarrus, but with a vulnerability that comes with his want for her.

For all the worlds she has visited and the planets she has explored, nothing seems quite so exciting as exploring Kanan, and her hands and mouth can’t move fast enough to make these discoveries. She deftly frees her fingers from her leather gloves, dropping them with a soft thud to the cabin floor. Her right hand slides up to his neck, even as her mouth opens against his, welcoming him inside, and she pulls boldly at the tie keeping his hair in place. She is almost embarrassed to admit to herself how much she’s been distracted by the thought of slipping her fingers through his locks, and her time is finally nigh. Her slender fingers card through his dark hair and she’s met with a satisfied purr, a sound that is so electrifying to her and that she can feel reverberating against her own body, and she drags her fingers from his scalp to the ends of his hair to hear it again and again. 

Her left hand dances at the hem of his tunic, her fingers slip under the fabric to get a feel of soft, warm skin over hard muscle. The small taste isn’t enough, and soon her hand has fully slipped under his shirt, her palm mapping his stomach and chest. She shivers against him, her skin prickles with anticipation as she explores his. 

Kanan sighs against her mouth, the hand once propping them against the hatch now slides down the angle of her jaw, his fingers holding her in place as his tongue slips over her lower lip before gently biting there. “Hera,” he breathes, taking a step back from the entryway. He uses the break in contact to pull the tunic over his head in one graceful motion and tosses it aside. Hera sucks in a quick breath, and allows herself to be led a few small steps towards his spartan bed.

“Stay?” he rasps, looking towards his bunk.

Hera laughs softly, her mind reeling with the thought of exploring more of that soft, warm skin, but stops him from moving closer to his bunk, pulling his face to hers for a deep, sweet kiss. Her fingers dance over the newly exposed planes of his chest, and the pads of her fingers lightly stroke the dark hair that grows there. 

The energy crackling between them seems to have jolted her brain back into operation, and she takes a shuddering sigh, lifting her gaze to meet his hooded eyes. Another shiver racks her spine, his seaglass eyes are dark, but with that same glitter of mischief from the dejarik table the night before. But there’s something more… something more appreciative, something more reverent about his gaze. With his eyes on her, she can feel her throat tighten and her heart start to ache as she makes the realization that she has to, at least for now, appeal to her brain. 

Their first night together does not deserve to start with frustration and confusion. And now, Hera affirms that there _will_ be a first night together. But they have to take things at just the right pace. It nearly breaks her heart to say, 

“No, dear. Not tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic owes a tremendous debt of gratitude to a fabulous beta reader and a fabulous friend, the-arctic-violet. She lets me yell head canons and swear like a sailor in our tumblr chats, and I am very grateful to know her. <3


	4. Four

They didn’t talk about it the next day.

Or even the day after that.

Hera would be afraid she’s done something wrong, but there is a marked shift in the atmosphere aboard the _Ghost_ . For once, the nagging voice coming from her heart seems more sure of itself, and her mind is finally starting to quiet with the realization that things are actually going… _well_. An ease settles between them that isn’t rife with the guarded tension and Hera is happy for the peace. 

“Re-entering real space,” she calls over her shoulder to her first mate. No matter the relationship or comfort that may be blossoming between them, there is no excuse to not follow proper protocol. Hera Syndulla runs a tight ship, no matter who may make up her crew.

Kanan has just finished a final inventory of dubiously marked supply crates secured in the cargo hold. While Hera wishes she could dedicate all of her time to the rebellion, the fact remains that they’re still too scattered, still too disorganized to offer her any sort of financial assistance, and the _Ghost_ doesn’t run on goodwill alone. There’s also the matter of Kanan - he undoubtedly knows from Gorse that there is a cause much bigger than he’s fully aware of that demands Hera’s attention, but she’s still gauging how willing he is to dive headlong into a fight against the Empire. In the short term, with Kanan by her side, she’s able to take on slightly more involved - and maybe even a little more _dangerous_ \- runs, so long as the credits flow, there isn’t a job she won’t at least consider.

Kanan flops unceremoniously into the seat beside her, preparing for the lurch that separates hyper- from real space. Hera can feel his light eyes do a quick sweep of her before turning his attention to the viewport to see what sort of backwater Outer Rim world they’re delivering to this time.

Except once the starlines settle and the blue swirls of hyperspace are behind them, the jump is less of a lurch and more of a crash. She grimaces as an alarm goes off behind her, hoping that whatever damage the apparent asteroid strike to the hull of the _Ghost_ was merely cosmetic. 

“ _Hera_ ,” he says warningly, as if she doesn’t see the swath of asteroids dotting the sky like confetti. 

“Come on, Kanan, when are these runs ever easy? Chop, why didn’t these come up on our atmospheric scans?!” the pilot demands, pulling the control yoke hard to the right. She skirts around a particularly large chunk of rock elegantly, even if she can hear something unsecured crash in the common area behind her with the quick movement of the ship. 

Chopper whirs and beeps furiously, trying to chart a new course around the asteroid storm, but Hera’s faster than the little astromech. Her fingers move swiftly across the controls, flipping switches and pulling levers in a familiar dance. Kanan grips the armrest of his chair so tightly his knuckles start to go white, and Hera can’t help but smile smugly when she catches a glimpse of his panicked face.

“Gonna do anything about that alarm, Jarrus?” she teases as the _Ghost_ dives, the surface of the planet growing closer, and with it, blessedly tame in-orbit flight. 

“Aye aye, Captain,” he assents lightly, trying to find his bearings as the ship weaves through the debris. “Do me a favor and don’t get us killed before I can make my way across the ship.” 

“Me? Never! Just don’t lose your balance,” Hera says, even as the ship makes another hard swerve. 

“Remind me to kiss the ground the minute the ramp engages,” he mutters, bracing himself as he slides out of the cockpit. “...And _you_ , if we survive.” 

Hera sucks in a breath and very, very narrowly avoids a head on collision with a particularly nasty asteroid. She doesn’t dare look over her shoulder, her focus solely on navigating safely to the planet’s surface. 

“If that’s you asking me to stay the night in your bunk, Kanan Jarrus, the answer is still no!” 

She can hear him laughing as he descends the ladder to check on her damaged ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely friend the-arctic-violet beta's again and I couldn't do it without her! <3


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all, and thanks for your patience. I had best intentions of getting this out sooner, but someone close to me passed away in this midst of everything going on, and my brain was just NOT in the right place to get this out. Hopefully it proves to be worth the wait. 
> 
> Please be advised, this chapter will be the ** LAST CHAPTER RATED AS TEEN ** - Chapter 6 will take on a hard EXPLICIT rating, do with that information what you will. This chapter sort of... toes the line between Teen & Mature, but I don't think there's anything warranting a bump up in rating. I hope you enjoy, and thank you all for your kind words and support! I've had a lot of fun with this first jump into writing for these two and made some great friends along the way, and I'm so appreciative for this distraction in the chaos!

A few fairly short, successful runs later, both ship and crew are refueled and reenergized. 

Hera has the luxury of picking and choosing which jobs to take for at least a few weeks, maybe longer if they are careful with their earnings. Chopper runs a full diagnostic on the _Ghost_ , and Hera is gratified to learn that the damage to the hull of her beloved freighter is indeed primarily cosmetic, and before setting to the skies again, Kanan makes the repairs without waiting to be asked. 

The _Ghost_ sits among the tall grasses of Lothal. Hera heaves a satisfied sigh of relief as she stands and stretches from a stint reviewing a datapad at the dejarik table. She makes her way down the ramp to enjoy the feeling of the day’s last rays of sunshine warming her lekku, grateful for the fresh air in her lungs for once rather than the _Ghost’s_ recycled air. Soon they’ll be airborne again and maybe she’ll opt for a longer run while she waits for Fulcrum to give her some more specific objectives, but Hera isn’t mad about the break for now. 

“Good as new,” Kanan announces, kneeling to sit beside her on the ramp. He tosses his tools to the side, “Anything else for today? I took the liberty of recalibrating the steering on the _Phantom_ , too. You complained about it pulling after our last run.” 

“Thanks, dear,” she smiles, crossing her arms at the top of her knees and propping her chin on her forearms to take in the sunset. The endearment is still fragile in her mouth as it takes on more meaning, but Hera hasn’t let the realities of war harden her or her personality, and she could always feign friendliness if it ever became an issue.

She’s sure it won’t come to that, though. Because despite her brain screaming at her, her heart seems to be making more ground in establishing - _naming_ \- this thing between her and Kanan. 

Hera feels warmth enter her personal space, and it’s far more than the rays of Lothal’s setting sun can provide. Kanan mirrors her position, sitting so close to her that she can feel the heat of his body along her right side. They sit in appreciative silence for a few minutes, taking in the colors of sunset before Hera feels emboldened enough to rest her head on his shoulder. Kanan adjusts himself to pull her alongside him, wrapping his left arm around her waist. 

In this quiet moment, Hera feels a peace that not even flight has ever granted her. She wants so badly to tell him, confess to Kanan that she feels herself slipping in love with him. It’s bad for business, falling for her crew mate, and Hera’s terrified that the admission and any potential fall out between them will ruin what is already working so well. _Besides,_ her brain is always ready to chastise her, _what’s to say he really wants to stick around long term with so many other prospects across the galaxy?_

 _Let’s not forget,_ that nagging voice continues, _You have a rebellion to help stage, people to liberate, worlds to free and an Empire to destroy._

Her brain is absolutely furious when she lifts her head from his shoulder and adjusts her body to better face his, her slender fingers sliding to either side of his jaw to pull him to meet her mouth. Hera Syndulla decides in that moment that her favorite feeling in the galaxy is the feeling of Kanan’s smile against her lips as he returns her kiss as easy as breathing.

His mouth is warm, soft against hers and she wants to explore more of it. She’s tentative, trying to maintain some control of the situation, take things slow and appreciate the newness of this adventure. The first night when their lips crashed in Kanan’s bunk, she was acting on impulse, frustration.

Now, with the sky opening in front of them and in the quiet calm of Lothal’s grassy plains, Hera feels a calmness that wasn’t with them weeks ago. Kanan must feel the shift, too, because his mouth opens against hers and she takes the opportunity to deepen their kiss, her tongue brushing against his lips before beginning its exploration of his mouth.

He sighs against her, pulling her closer towards him, almost onto his lap. Hera is eager to have better access to her continued exploration of Kanan, and perhaps with more eagerness than necessary, uses the opportunity to straddle his hips. Her arms slide around his neck, closing the small distance between him. One of his gloved hands settles at her waist while the other gently cups her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone gently as they kiss. 

“Kanan,” she breathes, leaning away from him just fractionally, her arms freeing from around his neck. His eyes are still closed as her green eyes take in his handsome face, the back of her hand brushing a loose strand of his hair from his forehead. “I’m… I’m sorry if the last few weeks I’ve been … flighty about this.” 

“Is that a pilot joke?” he quips, catching and twining her fingers with his. He brings them to mouth and kisses them softly and it’s becoming difficult for Hera to say what she wants to say.

“I don’t want to ruin this,” she admits in a voice much smaller than he’s ever heard from her. “I need you to understand, Kanan, I… I want this to work. I just also want my responsibility to the rebellion to work - it _has_ to work.”

His eyes focus on her, locking on hers, “Hera, I would never dream of holding you back from whatever it is that you’re set to do,” he says in what feels like the most genuine promise Hera has ever been given, “I want to support you in that. I _will_ support you in that. Force knows I could hardly stop you. Look I know my past is a little,” he pauses, trying to choose his words carefully, “well, complicated. I know I act rashly, I know I say things I probably shouldn’t. And I hope I haven’t _actually_ upset you. But Hera, you are _incredible_ . You will _do_ incredible things and I want to be there to see them unfold. And for the record, I’ve wanted this since at _least_ that dark alley on Gorse.” 

Hera snorts inelegantly at the memory of the brawl, but then rests her forehead against his and she smiles. He really does _want_ this.

“We’ll take it slow? I’m still the captain of this ship,” she asserts, but it’s half-hearted. Hera’s begrudging brain is already starting to imagine a reality where Kanan is as much in control of missions as she is. A reality in which they are truly partners in every sense of the word.

“I’m at your command, captain,” he laughs, and he pulls her into another sweet kiss. Hera’s arms resume their place around his neck and his hands at her waist pull her close to him. She feels his fingertips burning into her skin, even through the layers of fabric, and suddenly the air is too warm. 

Hera’s mouth dips a little lower, pressing gentle kisses along his chin and slowly along the side of his face, experimenting with the soft skin where the hinge of his jaw meets his neck. Her quick fingers free his hair from its tie, she’s been distracted for days by the thought of his loose hair since that night in his cabin and she’s treated once again to his near purr as she slides her fingers through it. Her mouth continues its exploration and she’s rewarded with a low groan as he tilts his head to the side, giving her more access to the column of his neck. Hera is eager to explore it all, daring to trail her tongue gently down his sensitive skin, pausing sporadically to punctuate her journey with gentle bites before soothing them with her tongue. 

“Hera,” he grinds out, and she can tell it’s taking a lot of control to keep his body in check, to not flip her onto the ramp and give her a taste of her own teasing medicine. She can feel the rumble of his voice in his throat as her lips stop there, pressing wet kisses into his warm, coppery skin. She pulls away and meets his gaze, his eyes darkened significantly. “If we… if we keep up like this… you’re going to make it very difficult to take things slowly.” 

Right. That was _her_ stipulation. She takes a moment to take a deep breath of the clear night air, and when she’s grounded herself, her skin feels hot and prickly, and she tries not to feel embarrassed by the feel of Kanan’s growing arousal under her position in his lap.

She swallows hard, her heart making a decision that her brain isn’t fully on board with. “Move inside?” she offers in a meaningful tone, and gestures up the ramp and into the _Ghost_. 

He strokes her cheek again with the back of his hand, kisses her gently. “There is nothing I’d rather do more than have you stay in my bed tonight, Hera,” he says, his voice husky in a way that makes Hera’s insides flutter, “but I think tonight, we should take in the stars.” 

Hera could cry in a confusing mix of frustration and relief and the surge of happiness warming in her blood. She untangles herself from him and Kanan lets her resettle so that her back is flush against his chest, lekku against his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her midsection. She can feel the steadying cadence of his breathing behind her, and takes a few moments to match it, her mind and body giving into this rare moment of peace. 

It was a perfect evening on Lothal for stargazing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I owe so much to the-arctic-violet for her extra set of eyes and bouncing of headcanons with me. She's made this project so much fun, and I am so grateful to her.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it to the end! Please note the change in rating for this chapter. ** THIS CHAPTER IS EXPLICIT ** so if that is not to your taste, thanks for joining us, your story ended at Chapter Five. <3 For everyone else, please enjoy, and thank you so much for your kind comments and fun chats on tumblr.

They’re on a longer run after a quiet few weeks, this time, deeper into the Outer Rim than Hera would normally prefer. The closer they get to Wild Space, the less reliable the hyperspace lanes become, the more manual jumps required. The job paid well enough. They had the time and resources. She trusts Chopper implicitly and she herself had charted the course before leaving Lothal. She even passed the datapad to Kanan for a second set of eyes on her work. He had spent a fair amount of time working across the Outer Rim, and it’s nice to have a partner she can trust with these more complicated jobs. 

Fulcrum is infuriatingly quiet. Hera knows that it won’t always be this way, but she is itching to do more than make deliveries from one world to another, she longs to do something that will have more of a positive impact on the people in each system… and more of a direct impact against the Empire. She doesn’t let it bother her too much for now, and instead uses the time to set a new normal with Kanan aboard the  _ Ghost _ .

Just now, that new normal means settling in for a very long ride to their destination. The first leg of their journey will hopefully give Hera enough time to get a few hours of sleep in before the shorter, more intensive piloting will begin closer to the other side of the galaxy. She stands from her seat in the cockpit and pats Chopper’s dome affectionately. 

“Be nice to Kanan - he’s taking the next shift,” she tells Chopper, who makes a disgusted sound. The little astromech is fiercely protective of Hera and she appreciates that, though she wishes he were a little friendlier to Kanan. Poor Kanan has often been on the receiving end of an electro-prod since stepping aboard the ship, and she’s willing to bet he’s also sporting permanent bruises on his shins at the expense of her droid. 

She ignores his grousing before making one final check of the control deck and slipping out of the cockpit to ensure Kanan is ready to take charge of the  _ Ghost _ . He won’t have much to do for hours, but it’s good to be sure he’s prepared. 

“You’re up,” Hera finds him sprawled across the chair in the common area, absently scrolling through a datapad. “Probably fifteen or sixteen hours to the next system, and I’m afraid there won’t be much to do.” 

He stands and stretches, twining his fingers together and raising his arms overhead to stretch his spine. His tunic lifts just enough for Hera to catch a glimpse of that tan skin bared at his waistband and she considers a way she would like to spend the time. 

When had she become so easily distracted?

“You’re going to leave me alone in the cockpit with that metal menace?” he asks incredulously after finishing his stretch, but there’s no real weight in his complaint. “Unsupervised?” 

Hera shakes her head at both the thought that’s crept into her mind and in defense of her droid. “Chop is doing most of the work right now. Besides, I told him to be nice.” 

“Ah, yes, and that’s never stopped him from being anything but nice before.” 

She rolls her eyes and pats him on his shoulder before passing towards the cabins. “Both of you could stand to be a little friendlier to each other,” she admonishes.

Before she can take a few more steps, he catches her hand and pulls her back gently. He lifts her gloved fingers to his lips and kisses them gently, and Hera feels the blood rush to her cheeks. 

There is no way he isn’t doing some weird Jedi thing - there is no way he isn’t reading her mind.

“I’ll work on that,” he says quietly, a smile playing on his lips as he catches her other hand and pulls her close to him. “You sure you don’t want to put him in a maintenance cycle and keep me company instead?” 

She wants to do that. 

Very much.

“I… I should really get some sleep this shift,” she says, not daring to lift her eyes to his. It will certainly be her undoing if she allows herself to meet those blasted blue-green eyes. “Let me know if you need anything?” Hera offers as she tugs her hands away. She pauses for a moment before making her escape to her cabin, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

There’s _no rush_. They have all the time in the galaxy, and she should be in top form for the last bit of this run. 

That’s what she tells herself, anyway.

He nods, and Hera hates that he genuinely seems disappointed to be sent off to the cockpit alone, with only Chopper for company over the next several hours. “Sleep well,” he says simply, but his voice seems to fall flat.

It’s as she’s shedding her flightsuit and tucking her armor away that she realizes how genuinely tired she has grown of this dance. The exhaustion has turned physical, the constant feeling of being on guard and keeping herself in check around Kanan is taking its toll. But Hera has flown in far more precarious situations on absolutely no sleep whatsoever, her excuses are becoming weaker and weaker. 

For the first time in her nineteen years, Hera realizes that each time she turns him down, each time she skirts around acting on what her heart truly wants… it comes down to fear. What happens if she acts on this impulse, this burning inside her, and it changes everything? What happens if it ruins their dynamic, or worse, what happens if he leaves her?

Let alone how the confusing and growing feelings for him, the rebellion could use someone like Kanan. Someone brave and clever, someone tactical and hardworking.  _ A Jedi _ . She can’t force him to join her cause, but she would certainly mourn the loss if he did not.

Surely there’s more between her and Kanan than just the physicality of their relationship? 

Hera sucks in a deep breath of recirculated air to steady herself as she weighs her options. She tugs on a pair of soft black leggings and slips a black tank top over her head. By the time she finishes wrapping her lekku, she has made a decision.

She has to know.

The hatch to her cabin slides open, and she silently pads down the length of the ship towards the cockpit.

It’s as if Kanan senses her before she’s even stepped foot into the small space, but when he spins in the pilot's seat to see her in her sleep clothes, she can see the surprise on his handsome features. Hera, who has grown up understanding the stigma and stereotypes surrounding twi’lek women, never shows this much skin, even if the outfit is modest by normal standards. He has certainly never seen her in anything but her baggy flight suit and armor. 

“Chop, go ahead and run a maintenance cycle,” she says quietly, wondering if either of them can hear the nerves in her voice. Chopper beeps out his suspicions but obliges, but not before baring the prod menacingly one more time in Kanan’s direction. He trundles out of the cockpit to a station in the common area, and Hera is alone with Kanan once again, in a small space, though the atmosphere is suddenly much different than ever before.

The first thing she notices is how the blue lights of hyperspace cast him in a beautiful glow, and he reaches out to her, and she is sure that he knows what is about to happen. Hera takes his hands and he pulls her into his lap, his arms settling around her waist as she straddles him, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“Decided to keep me company after all?” he teases, but the timbre of his voice is deeper, his eyes darker than she’s seen them before.    
  
“Don’t ruin this, Kanan,” she says lightly, close to his mouth now. Hera feels the rumble of a laugh in his chest, and seeks to capture that beautiful moment when he’ll smile against her lips. Her tongue gently traces at the seam of his mouth, and she’s granted entry to deepen her kiss. 

She’s pressed in place by one of his hands roaming slightly higher up her back, and in the thin layer she’s wearing, she can feel the warmth of his palm sliding up her spine. It takes more control than she expects to not cant her hips against his, though a slight gasp escapes her lips when she feels the evidence of his arousal already growing against her body. She presses her palms against his chest to push back, and his hand raises to between her shoulder blades to keep her from toppling backwards off the chair.

Her seat in the cockpit may not have been the most accommodating place to act on this impulse, but Hera doesn’t let it stop her from setting her fingers to work unbuckling the straps of his armor and letting them clatter to the ground. Kanan watches her, his eyes roaming her lithe body appreciatively, and certainly doesn’t stop her when her fingers tug on the hem of his tunic.

“Take this off,” she insists, her voice quiet but adamant. 

He obliges, balancing her carefully on his lap as he pulls the tunic and undershirt off in a graceful movement. Hera’s quick to press herself back against the warm contours of his chest, her mouth seizing his once again as her fingers make short work of freeing his hair across his shoulders. She presses kisses from his lips down his chin, licking gently at his hard line of his jaw before continuing down the column of his neck. She stops at the hollow of his throat, and Kanan’s head lolls as far back as the headrest will allow, his lips parting as a low groan rumbles from his throat. 

Hera’s hands traverse the muscles of his chest. She explores the soft warmth of his skin dusted with dark hair reverently, and her mouth follows where her hands have already traveled. She nips gently at his collarbones, and she can feel the press of his erection becoming more insistent from her perch in his lap. 

“Hera,” he mutters tightly, and his voice is gravely, deep, and sends a shiver up her spine. 

“Hush,” she insists with a smile tugging at her lips. She returns to her work, her mouth traveling further down his body as far as she can from this position, and when she’s run out of skin to explore, she slides off his lap, and sinks to her knees between his legs. 

Kanan sucks in a deep breath before looking down to see that those nimble green fingers have already freed his belt buckle, shoved his holster aside, and have set their attention to the fastenings of his pants. He slides a hand down to her cheek, his thumb brushing at her cheekbone. 

“You don’t have to,” he promises, but Hera is emboldened, and she has never felt more sure of something in her life. He lifts his hips so she can slide his pants and shorts down as far as she can, freeing the erection that she could feel so insistently pressed against her. His fingers curl tightly into the armrests of the chair as hers curl around him, pumping tentatively, trying to find a cadence for him. His dark brows draw together, his face still cast in the blue lights of hyperspace, and he is one of the most beautiful things she has ever seen. 

When she takes him in her mouth, the way he cries her name becomes her most favorite sound in the galaxy. 

She sets her hands and mouth to work in time together, and Kanan is practically writhing under her ministrations. She’s certain that over time, she’ll settle into a comfortable routine of hitting all of the right spots for Kanan, but for now, the combination of her hands and her tongue are a bit haphazard. Still, she is gratified to be so effective, and she must be, because soon Kanan’s gravelly voice warns her, “Not… going to last…” and Hera pulls off him with a wet pop. 

He’s panting when he stares down at her, her cheek resting on his thigh and her fingers still curled gently around his cock, and she desperately wants to go back to tasting him. Instead, once his breath has returned, he pulls her to stand, and pulls his pants up around his hips, tucking himself gently back inside. Hera is momentarily afraid she’s done something wrong, but he stands beside her, leaving his scattered clothes on the deck. He scoops her into his arms, and walks with a purpose towards the cabins.

She’s grateful the  _ Ghost _ will fly its course on its own, and even more grateful that Chopper is powered down in the common area. 

By the time the hatch to Kanan’s cabin slides open, Hera is already itching to get out of her tank top and leggings, and Kanan seems to have a similar goal in mind. He doesn’t waste time pinning her to a wall or the hatch as they’ve done before. Instead, he deposits her gently on his bunk. He fumbles with his boots and shucks his pants down his long legs, and steps out of them, standing naked, exposed before her. 

She rakes her eyes across him, knowing that as much as she wants to take in every muscle, every scar, every part of his body, now is  _ not _ the time. It’s becoming difficult for Hera to focus, her breaths coming in a quick staccato and she can  _ not _ free herself from her clothing fast enough. She pulls her top over her head and Kanan tugs at her leggings. Once her body is exposed to him, Kanan stops, every muscle in his body seems frozen.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes, his voice like a prayer. “Hera, you’re  _ beautiful _ .” 

She reaches to pull him down into the narrow bunk with her, and now it’s Kanan’s turn for his mouth to explore her body. His fingers travel down her neck, and his mouth follows. Wet kisses press a trail between her breasts, and Hera cries out when that clever mouth of his takes one in his mouth, his teeth gently biting at her stiff nipple. She cries out and arches her back, urging him on.

He can’t help but laugh when she pulls his hand further down her body, instructing him exactly where she wants him to be. 

But he obliges, in a far more tantalizingly slow manner than Hera would prefer, and she presses her forehead into the crook of his neck when his fingers gently slide into her. The sensation is so overwhelming she wants to yell, to cry, to curse at him. But instead she bites hard at the skin between his neck and his shoulder, and he groans, but not in pain. 

A second finger. A third. Stars are starting to burst behind her closed eyelids, and the coil of pleasure is tight in her stomach, threatening to spill over any moment. 

And he withdraws. 

She pulls back, offended at the audacity to leave her feeling so empty when moments ago he made her feel so exquisite. But suddenly she understands. 

He crowds her gently towards the wall-side of the narrow mattress momentarily, and situates himself in the center of the bed. He reaches to grab her hips to pull her down, draped over his body. Hera understands his meaning, and presses her core against his, the length of his erection lined up against her, begging to enter. 

Kanan reaches to pull her down for a kiss. He’s asking permission, and Hera wordlessly grants it, her chest flush against his, one hand pulls at his hair and the other taking the weight of her body. 

She does cry out when he presses into her, and Kanan is afraid he’s hurt her. He freezes, waits till she’s ready to resume.

“Slowly,” she begs, though the pleasure is blinding. As he sinks deeper and she becomes more full, the stars behind her eyelids threaten to burst again, and she isn’t sure how long she is going to be able to take this. 

“Force,” he breathes, and she’s not sure if he means it as a curse or if he’s suddenly reminded that he has a connection to it, because the pain melts into warmth, and before she knows it, Kanan is shallowly thrusting into her.

The coil is tight in her stomach once again, and she scrambles to sit up on him, the new position allowing him to thrust deeper into her. She gasps with each snap of his hips, and braces herself with her palms pressed flat against his chest. She’s undone in seconds when his fingers find the bundle of nerves at her core.

“Kanan!” she cries, her vocalization cut quickly by his hand pulling her face back down to his, pressing his mouth against hers as he thrusts once… twice… three times… 

And he groans into her mouth as he shatters. 

Hera’s chest rises and falls almost as rapidly as his when she sits up once again, still impaled on him, though she can feel his cock starting to soften. He’s staring at her, those beautiful blue-green eyes sparkle in a way she’s never quite seen before. He looks… happy. Relaxed. 

At peace. 

She runs her fingers along his hairline, sweeping affectionately across his cheek. She ducks down again to kiss him, gently this time, with no urgency, no heated passion behind it. 

“We’re okay?” Hera whispers gently against his mouth.

“Were you afraid we wouldn’t be?” Kanan asks, a flash of concern in his face. 

Hera climbs off him carefully and slides her naked body along his. Her palm rests against his chest and she can feel his pulse starting to calm. “I like having you here. I want you to call the  _ Ghost _ home. I don’t want anything to change because of this.” 

He gathers her up in his arms, pulls her close to his warm body. She inhales deeply against his shoulder, wanting to commit this moment to her memory forever. The smell of sweat and sex on him, but there’s more - the smell of engine grease from whatever maintenance work he’d been doing earlier in the day. The nondescript detergent lingering on his body from a load of clean laundry. The neutral soap they keep in the shower stall in the ‘fresher. The distinctly masculine smell that is simply Kanan. It’s grounding, comforting. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Hera,” he promises. “I couldn’t dream of taking on the galaxy with anyone but you.” 

And she knows he means it. 

She presses her face into his shoulder and grins into his skin, and prepares to spend the rest of the shift in Kanan Jarrus’ bunk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I love them. I passionately disagree with Cowboy Dave on his flat out bizarre timeline of Kanan and Hera coming together, and I shriek about it often because it just does NOT make sense to me that we go four seasons of the kids calling them Mom & Dad for the two of them to not be together that whole time. Having said that, this isn't necessarily how I envisioned their "first time" going, and this story changed and grew a LOT from the time I started writing it to the posting of this final chapter. (This fic was initially a tumblr post in five parts of short, straight dialogue and banter, oops.) It worked for the sake of this story, and I have other ideas I might adopt for a different approach to a first time. Maybe. We'll see.
> 
> I am super, super grateful for the little circle of Kaneras on Tumblr and the new friends I've made there, but I'm especially grateful to the platonic Kanan to my Hera, the-arctic-violet/SecondSilverKey for her hard work in beta-ing this whole piece. We had a lot of great conversations about a lot of great things related to these two and some of them found their way into this piece and others.
> 
> I have... kind of?... opened myself to prompting on tumblr, and if you're interested in that or in just yelling about these two tired Space Parents with me, let's party! (I'm agent-aurelie on tumblr.)
> 
> Thank y'all for reading, I hope you enjoyed! See you next time!


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